Conversant
by hisluvpet
Summary: Post-SR, Starkinson, hc, casefile. Conspiracy, murder, cover-up, Starsky returns to action, and lots of tofu.
1. Default Chapter

_Anyone can give up, it's the easiest thing in the world to do. But to hold it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart, that's true strength._

Anonymous

_The only business of the head in the world is to bow a ceaseless obeisance to the heart._

William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

The dime dropped into the slot with a muffled clatter and he dialed the number that had somehow become embedded in his memory, along with a few others that he'd never had occasion before to call so often. But, that was before. It was picked up after a few rings, the greeting as short as it was bordering on the rude. It was good that some things never changed, because too damn much had changed recently.

Without preamble he spoke, "So, what's the verdict?"

"What must be done, will be done."

"Same as before, right?"

"Down to the last ridiculous detail, man."

"You're sure?"

"Starkinson, are you questioning the integrity of the Earl?"

"No, Merl. It's, just…Well, it's _important_."

"Yeah, man, I _know_. The vibe is there. I got calls out for the parts and the stuff's been flowing in. It'll be done. Ya got the word of the Earl."

_pause_

"Thanks, Merl. It means a lot," quietly.

"To all of us, man. To all of us."

_pause_

"Look, I'll call you when it's ready, okay?" Merl's voice had a quality that it seemed to take on whenever he called lately. It was hard to qualify, but it was there.

"I owe you one."

"Just do me a favour, and don't park that low-class hunk 'o junk in front next time."

"You got it, Merl," came the soft and almost affectionate reply.

He hung up the receiver and made his way back to his seat next to the five-year old Reader's Digests and tattered copies of Field and Stream. A waiting room was a waiting room was a waiting room, he quipped to himself. Then, he reminded himself that he had somebody to wait for, a situation that could have all too easily not been the case.

He sucked in a sudden breath to counteract the dipping of the pit of his stomach. The reaction was so typical, familiar, and as devastating as the first time. Could you get used to periodic bouts of stark terror followed by heaping loads of guilt, topped off with a sense of utter helplessness at your inability to reduce the pain your partner was going through? Would you want to?

The familiar topic chased itself like a puppy after its own tail through his brain, skittering through reminders of the day's activities. A desk in Metro gave him lots of opportunities to shift paper. He talked through endless phone conversations following up on the coldest of cold leads, the craziest and the most mundane of calls for police assistance. He'd catch himself thinking about busting punks in their district with a feeling that was practically nostalgic. He snorted out loud at this last. He was losing it. Looking up, he saw the person that would motivate him to ride a desk for as long as needed.

"Starsk."

One word, said in the way that only his partner could say, caused a smile to hover around his mouth. The lumbering jackknife movement of the lanky man getting out of the inevitably uncomfortable waiting room chair was endearing, and the smile cranked into a full-wattage grin. The befuddled wonder in Hutch's eyes at being the recipient of such a treasure (rare these days to have something to really smile about) made it all the wider.

"Hey, Blondie. Ya made it."

"Well, the Looney Tunes were off-key today, and I got out on time." A ghost of a smile graced his tired face.

"Hard to believe you can pull as much OT as you do flying a desk," Starsky sidled up to his partner, his movements, finally, a smooth rendition of his strut. He finished his rapid, yet comprehensive examination of his partner and pronounced judgment. "You're bushed. We're goin' home – now," and snaked his right arm around Hutch's left, grabbed his hand and led him to the doorway of the clinic. He waved at Sidney the receptionist, who smiled and went back to her typing.

"Starsky," he began, a hint of a whine coloring his voice annoying him no end.

"No buts. You been pulling 14 hour days, chauffeuring me around all over, keeping house, helping me with my therapy and studying, and generally carrying the weight of the world for too damn long."

After another look at his partner's face, Starsky stopped in corner the foyer, leaned forward, putting his other hand on Hutch's shoulder and tugged their foreheads together, heedless of the press of patrons passing and milling by the elevators.

Finally, Starsky said in a low voice, "It's one more week. Can you hold it together?"

"I have to."

"You don't have to do anything."

"Maybe I want to."

"Do you?"

"What?"

"Want to do things."

"For you, yeah."

"That's good for me then."

"Hope it is."

Starsky pulled back a little and smiled gently, "Come on, Blintz. I'll make you a tofu burger."

Gentle threats usually worked to get Hutch to give over. Sometimes cajoling. Tonight however, it was gonna have to be outright whining Starsky decided.

"You didn't eat."

"I did," Hutch replied, turning a page of _Siddhartha _that Starsky knew hadn't been read. The turning intervals were too regular, too careful to be anything but a shield for some serious brooding.

"Two bites," he pouted. "Don't you like my cooking?" he let a waver come into his voice, then a slight hitch – just a touch so as to not over-do it. It got immediate results.

"Of course I like your cooking, Buddy," Hutch looked up, alarmed, then faltered at the smug look on his partner's face. "Bastard," he added without heat, then closed his eyes and sighed, tossing the book on the coffee table.

Starsky plopped down on the couch next to him and tuned sideways, feeling delightfully limber. He shimmied a bit, just to enjoy it. Hutch opened his eyes just as he made this maneuver and had to chuckle. His sybaritic partner was just a joy to watch these days. His alive, lively, lovely other half, and he just stared. They'd been want to do that lately, just stare at each other, eyes locked, with easy silence. This was the best talking of all.

Starsky sighed. The final shield was down and they could now get to what needed to be said. His left hand wandered over and slipped itself into Hutch's right and their fingers interlaced. Touch was needed here; it made communication even easier.

"It's one week to the Boards," he began, unconsciously squeezing the other's hand.

"Not like I'm gonna forget _that_, Starsk," Hutch said dryly, but his thumb began gently stroking his partner's fingers.

Starsky's head bobbed, then he gave a sheepish half grin. "I know, I just…Geez, Hutch. I feel like there's so much going on here, and I don't know where to start…" he trailed off, genuinely puzzled by the bubble of panic in his throat. He'd started this, and now he couldn't get it down the road.

"Hey," Hutch said softly, looking carefully past some of Starsky's own defenses and seeing the budding panic. "_Hey_," he called again and reached over to tug Starsky into his arms. "I'm supposed to be the worrier in this partnership," he continued as he slid one hand behind his partner's head and tucked it into the hollow of his shoulder, resting his chin gently on the top of his head.

"Says who," muttered Starsky, rubbing his face into Hutch's neck like a tired child. Well, he was tired. PT was a bitch in high heels, just ready to step on your feet and really, really enjoy it.

"Says me," Hutch chuckled into curly hair, nuzzling to feel its softness, to confirm its presence, it existence yet again. The tightening of his arms signaled to Starsky that he was having another momentary flashback, the petting of his back let him know that Hutch was ready to talk again.

"I'm scared," Starsky finally got out, his face still hidden. "Stupid, huh?"

"Nope," Hutch shook his head.

"Yeah, well I'm goin' on about you holding it together, then I start…"

"Start what?"

"Acting like I'm five and afraid to go to school."

"School didn't include pimps, pushers, thieves, and automatic weapons, Starsk."

"You didn't go to P.S. 122, Hutch."

"Very funny."

"I know I'm gonna pass, ya know? It's just…_then_ what do we do?"

"We do what comes next," Hutch leaned back as Starsky finally came up for air, his face a study of youthful pout and older dread. "We always do."

"Then why are you so worried?" he shook his head when Hutch tried to speak. "No way. You were sitting here, steam practically comin' outta your ears. I could hear you thinking in the kitchen and it wasn't a pleasant sound, lemme tell ya."

"I just," Hutch stopped and took a breath. He looked directly at Starsky and ground out, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

Hutch couldn't bear looking directly at his partner any more and shut his eyes.

"Come on, Hutch, sorry for what? Burning my toast? Forgetting to pick up my jacket at the dry cleaners?"

"For letting you get hurt, damnit!" roared Hutch.

"Thought that might be something you were thinking about," Starsky said softly, cupping the other's chin and lifting his face so their eyes met yet again. "Don't ever think that you could have done anything more than what you did, Hutch. If you'd done any more, you would have been shot, and I couldn't have taken that on top of everything else. You hear me?"

"I hear you; it's a little harder to make myself believe that."

"That's why you been killing yourself these past months, isn't it? You feel guilty."

"N-no, that's n-not it, n-not r-really," he broke off, angry with himself for falling into his stress stutter.

"Don't," Starsky shook the blond's chin. "Relax. I know you did all this stuff for me because you want to. God knows I probably don't deserve it, but, thanks."

Hutch nodded. Their understanding met.

"But," Starsky continued resolutely, "there is no way in hell I'm letting you own _any_ guilt for what happened. Gunther came after me because of what we did to him. He could have easily come after you, and I can tell you, Hutch, I know I sure as hell wouldn't 've handled this as well as you have."

"Well," Hutch snorted.

"Yeah, Blondie. You've done it all. Been a regular White Knight, and it's all coming down to the wire, isn't it?"

"Yeah," came a husky agreement in a far away voice.

"Then, _what is it_?"

"Funny thing that you should mention that you're scared about what comes next."

Darker blue met lighter and waited with a patience that had been cultivated by force recently.

With a deep intake of breath, Hutch continued, "What's gonna happen here, Starsk? With us?"

"You mean, have I thought about where we're going?"

"Something like that."

"I haven't really thought about where very much. Just that I want to go there together. That okay with you?"

"Yeah, Charlie, perfect."

"Glad that's settled," mumbled Starsky, tucking his head back down, hugging. "Tell me a bedtime story, huh?"

"Idiot," but the smile belied the words as the two got up and wandered out of living room to go to bed.

The thumping at the front door woke Starsky from a pleasant interlude of sleep. After Hutch had left for work, he'd given in to the impulse to fall back asleep. Seldom did his schedule permit luxuries of that type and he'd been enjoying the lazy feeling immensely, more so because it would be even scarcer after next week.

Stumbling to the door, he mumbled, "Yeah, yeah, I'm comin' already." Carefully checking to see that his S&W was readily available, he opened the door. "Yeah, can I help you?"

Worried eyes cast a quick glance at the partially opened door, the hall, and then came to rest on Starsky's face, immediately flicking away nervously. "You're Starsky, right?"

"Yeah, who's asking?"

"I know Huggy Bear."

"That's nice. Still doesn't tell me who you are."

"Man, he said you were a hard case."

"It's a character flaw I'm working on – you got a point or were you just leaving?"

"Got some info, man. Good stuff that you'll want."

"And you're just all set to be my fink, being's we're such good pals, right?"

"Shit, man. Huggy'll set you straight. Just call him and he'll tell ya. Name's Cranberry."

Starsky gazed again at the pretty youth in the hallway of Venice Place – tight, shiny clothing that looked out of place in the daylight, wild hair, even wilder eyes.

"You trippin'?"

"I ain't zonked, man. I don't pop nothin', just do a little weed now and then. Not my scene you know?"

"What is your scene?" Starsky motioned for the youth to come in and pointed to a kitchen chair. He sat down as if he expected it to explode; all the while his eyes were skating around the room.

"Right now, stayin' alive," Cranberry met Starsky's gaze for the first time and held it.

"Hold that thought," Starsky pointed a finger at the youth and dialed Huggy's number. The phone was picked up immediately, so he figured that the Bear had been expecting this call.

"Hey Hug."

"Starsky, ma man, what it is."

"Ya gotta stop sending me presents so early in the mornin' Hug; I really can't fully appreciate them 'til I've have my first cup of coffee, ya know?"

"So he turned up, huh? Sorry, man. The way Berry asked about you, I thought he was lookin' for a meet. I told him I could arrange one, but he was rather anxious. If he showed up at your pad, he scored the address from my office," the Bear's voice held chagrin.

"S'okay. Don't worry about it. He one of yours, Hug?"

"Step-cousin, only the step ain't steppin' no more, ya dig?"

"Got it. Worth it?"

"He's basically a good kid workin' it. Passably on the up and up, if you get my drift. All I know is, he's scared. He knows something big, Starsky, and he needs help. Yours and Blondie's."

"I'm getting a similar impression," Starsky took a deep breath, then exhaled. "We're on it, Hug. Get back to you when we got something, okay?"

"Thanks, man. I owe ya."

"Don't think so, Hug. We're pretty much in the hole with you for the next decade."

"That's different, Starsky, and you know it. You two are family, not cousins, ya dig?" Huggy scolded his friend.

Starsky grinned and replied, "Got it, Hug. And…thanks, man."

"The Bear aims to please, when he's dealing with Hutchinson and Starsky's," Huggy crooned with glee.

"Later, Hug," he hung up the phone laughing softly, all the while keeping his eyes on Cranberry, who appeared fascinated by his side of the conversation.

Looking appraisingly at the boy, Starsky spoke, "Huggy says you're all right, and I'm willing to listen to you on the strength of that. But," and he strode over the table and stood over Berry, his gaze steel, "you screw with me, and the deal's off. Got it?"

Berry visibly swallowed and croaked out, "Got it."

"Why are you comin' to me here? 'Cause I gotta say, not inclined to make me very comfortable that you know my address." Not to mention he wasn't on active duty, not yet anyway, and any confrontation would be messy from a paperwork standpoint to say the least.

"Heard someone tried to blow you away a few months back, and that you were in bad shape for a while, recovering at home," Berry began.

"And just where did you hear that," Starsky's voice slipped in a honed edge to match the steel of his eyes.

"J-just around, man," Berry stammered. "I don't know nothin' about the hit, just heard it, ya know?"

Starsky nodded, then dialed it down a few degrees, resuming his lean against the counter.

"Anyway," he looked up at the cop, then down again. "I knew that your partner was back at work, and I asked Huggy where you lived. Told him I needed to talk to you."

"And you're telling me that Huggy Bear just gave the home address of a cop to you 'cause you asked him nicely?'

"No," he faltered, then continued. "I asked if you and the blond were on the take. Hug said you two were the most honest cops he'd ever known and that I could trust you." Berry looked at Starsky, "He really digs you two, and you're really his friends, aren't you?" There was wonder in his voice.

"Yeah, we're friends, Berry, and that's mighty sweet, but try again," his manner became glacier. "And don't bullshit me, 'cause if you lie to me one more time, you're outta here."

The youth shivered and, if possible, looked even more frightened. He almost whispered, "I stepped into Huggy's office when he was busy out front, looked in his book, got your address, and left. He never knew I was in there." He looked at Starsky, who hadn't warmed up any. "I had to, man. He would've never given me your home address, and I couldn't connect with your partner. Hell, if I'da called him, someone would've _known_, you get it, man?"

"Who is someone, Berry?" his interrogation voice none the worse for wear for a few months disuse.

"People," Berry replied, the wild look that hadn't gone too far returned to his eyes. "People wired for sound in this town. Totally juiced, ya dig?' His eyes implored Starsky's, just for what was not readily apparent.

"Just what the hell are you talkin' about, Berry," Starsky was half inclined to dismiss the whole thing as a scam, but something about the kid hit him directly in his gut, the place he trusted to keep his partner and him safe on the streets almost as much as the weapons they carried. It told him to listen, so he did.

"I was at _CherryDelight's_ night before last," his voice quivered as he spoke. "I saw them take Corey out of the back and put him into a van."

"Who's Corey?"

"He was my friend," the stark statement held the clear message that Corey was quite probably his only friend.

"What went down?"

"I was in the alley. I'd just, well, finished my trick and I was gonna go in the back way. I'd put a matchbook in the lock so it wouldn't shut all the way. Jerry the bouncer don't like me much, so I do it that way, so I can get back in without a hassle, get cleaned up, maybe cruise another. I was sorta behind the dumpster when I heard someone coming out the door. I waited, thinking it was one of the bouncers or somebody, then I heard a van coming down the alley. I saw them with Corey."

"How did you know it was him?"

"I'd know him anywhere! I saw him in the light of the streetlamp," his voice caught and stopped.

"How do you know he's dead? Why'd they want to kill him?"

"He'd seen _the guy_."

"Cut the melodrama crap, Berry, and tell me what guy and why he's so important!"

"Corey and me are tight and we talked, ya know, really talked? He told me a couple days ago, that one night last week, he got picked up by this dude in a Caddy on Santa Monica. Took him to a house in the hills, gave him some great shit that got him higher than a kite, and then some other dude came in fucked him sideways for two days. Next thing he knows, he's waking up at the Chalmer and he's got a hundred bucks in the pocket, and he don't remember how he got there."

Starsky knew the Chalmer; it was a dive just on the edge of his district. It had a mixed trade of hookers, drug deals, and actual hotel patrons that couldn't afford better digs. "This other dude, you gotta name?"

"Corey said he didn't know his name, and nobody really talked to him, ya know? But, sometime the second day, the dude got a phone call. He told Corey to go into the bathroom and wait, but he opened the door and listened," Berry paused and looked haunted. "If he hadn't of listened, he'd be alive."

"How do you know he's dead, Berry?" Starsky's voice softened at the genuine distress in the boy's face.

"He didn't come home," whispered Berry. "We always promised when we got done with a job, we'd come home, no matter what. I waited two days, but he ain't comin' back, not this time." Tears finally started their way down his face, marking rivulets on café-au-lait skin.

"What did he hear? Who'd he see, Berry?" Starsky couldn't help himself, and crossed over to grasp one shoulder of the boy in front of him.

"He heard the dude talking about some city accounts to be looked at, and that he wanted to make sure that the books were in place," Berry looked up at Starsky. "Corey was real smart, ya know? He said he figured this dude was in on some scam with somebody that worked for the city, and they had to, you know, cover it up because there was gonna be some, I can't remember what he called it…"

"An audit?" Starsky prompted.

"I think so."

"This guy, did Corey have a name or describe him?"

"He just said he was older, had grey hair, and dressed really fine," Berry reached up to touch Starsky's arm. "Corey thought he'd seen him somewhere, you know, like on TV or in the paper. When I talked to him night before last, he was really excited, said we were gonna have some real money soon, that we'd have it made once he scored later that night. I never saw him again." The boy's hand dropped onto the table in defeat.

"Have you checked the hospitals?"

"Yeah, and the morgue. He's not anywhere, but even if he took off, he wouldn't' leave me behind – we're tight, man. The tightest," Berry insisted, faith in his friend's loyalty unswerving in his eyes.

Starsky thought for a moment, then said, "Can you think of anything else that Corey said, any detail, no matter how small? 'Cause I gotta tell you, this is pretty thin, Berry."

"The Moon."

"What?"

"Big dude, hangs at the _Delight_ some nights. I dunno his real name, his handle's Moon. He was one of the muscle takin' Corey out; I saw him. I think he works for this dude or somebody close to him. Last night, when I was asking the bartender about Corey, he was watching me. When I left, he followed me, but I lost him."

"Do you know if he's ever been arrested?"

"Probably, but I don't know for sure. I've never wanted to talk with him about his life history – he's bad news."

"Okay, you need to get down to the station and look at the mug books, see if you can find him so we can get a picture of him."

"No way! I'm not going anywhere near a police station, man! You don't get it…They made Corey disappear. I'm not even as smart as Corey, and nobody gives a shit about me now that he's gone. If I get disappeared, no one's gonna even look for me."

"All right," Starsky conceded the boy's fear. "But, ya gotta know, kid I'm not on active duty just yet, and my partner's not taking new cases right now. What do you think we can do for you?"

"You're cops. Hug says you care 'bout folks, even bruthers. I need help. I can't go back to my place, and the dudes are bad. They'll find me, no matter where I hide, 'cause I know I can't hide out forever. You guys can take care of it without me making a report, right. Keep it out of the news down there?"

"Yeah, we can wave our magic wand and end world hunger, too, kid. Just who the hell do you think we are, anyway?"

"You're Starsky and Hutch, man." Which to him, seemed to explain everything.

"Oh, that'll work," muttered Starsky. "Stay put," he admonished, and caught the phone up again and dialed Metro to talk to his partner. Digging into a cupboard, he pulled out a bar and threw it at the kid, who looked at it puzzled. Starsky laughed as he waited to be put through to Hutch. "It's granola, kid. Trust me, it's better than it looks."

Berry didn't seem too convinced but bit into it anyway, taking with alacrity the glass of juice Starsky poured for him. This cop was strange, but like Hug said, seemed to be cool at the same time.

"Hey, Hutch. S'me."

"What's up, Starsk?"

"Got a hot date for lunch, Blondie?"

"Was gonna meet Minnie for the daily at the cafeteria, why?"

"I've got something special that Huggy gave me, I'd like to get your opinion on it. Can you swing by?"

_pause_

"Sure, Starsk. You need anything to go with that?"

"Nah, got it handled. Thanks. See ya."

"Bye."

Starsky looked over at Berry, who'd inhaled the granola bar and juice, and was still looking like the hungry teenager he was. He sighed. "Eggs?"

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Author: hisluvpet

Story Title: Conversant

Gen or Slash: Slash

Rating: Adult – Soapy scenes warning, m/m ship/sex warning, here there be dragons & possibly a plot or two

Complete or WIP: WIP

Part: 2

Start Date: 03/02/05

Finish Date:

Category: Post-SR, Starkinson, h/c, murder, cover-up, Starsky returns to action, and lots of tofu.

Disclaimer: I have Huggy's cousin as my legal representative, and she says I gotta tell you jive turkeys that I'm not making any green off this little opus so you won't sue my collective behind.

Feedback Onlist/Offlist: Needed like pizza & beer.

Critique Onlist/Offlist: Hit me with your best shot.

Archive: Me and Thee, SH Storyfinders, SH Slash, SHfic, Starsky-N-Hutch-fic, anyone else, just ask, I love to see my name in lights!

Site pimp: http: Merl's Garage – My SH stuff

hisluvpet - The recipe for _Adas_ _Polo_ follows this part of the story. _CherryDelight's_ club is a figment of my imagination, but Santa Monica Boulevard and Plummer Park are real – any resemblance to any structure, business, going concern or wide spot on the boulevard is a really big coincidence and not intended to resemble any neighborhood living or dead.

_Are you come to meet your trouble? _

_The fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it._

William Shakespeare (1564-1616), _Much Ado About Nothing_

_If at first, the idea is not absurd, then there is no hope for it._

Albert Einstein (1879-1955)

The door opened on a homey scene in the kitchen, and he paused to take it in. Starsky was just finishing rinsing some dishes and a teenager he'd never seen before was awkwardly drying them with a tea towel.

"Where does this go?" the boy held up a pan, a vaguely sullen look sat on his pretty face.

"Just put it on the counter over there," Starsky replied as he wiped down the counter. "You coming in all the way, Hutch, or are you just gonna continue to decorate that doorway?"

"Just enjoying the view, Starsk. Domestic you thrills me to the core, honey."

"Chauvinist pig."

"Oink, oink, babe."

Berry's head switched back and forth between the two men with the alacrity of a fervent Wimbledon fan. He'd heard these two were tight, but this was, well, _interesting_.

Starsky crossed to the fridge and pulled out the juice pitcher, snagged a glass from the drainer that hadn't yet been put away, filled it and handed it to his partner. He motioned to Berry to have a seat, and he sat down, his eyes never leaving the pair.

"Sit down and you can have a lunch-time story."

"Does it come with food?"

"The very best cuisine du Starsky," he pulled a plate from the oven using a hot pad and set it on the table in front of Hutch.

"I knew giving you that subscription to _Living Vegetarian_ was a mistake. What's this?"

"_Adas_ _Polo_. Shut up and eat; you've only got about half an hour before you gotta get back to Metro."

"Yes, Mom," Hutch mumbled, scooping in a large mouthful and washing it down with juice. Actually, it was pretty good, and he continued shoveling and chewing as he eyed the kid across the table from him. He was dressed in an old t-shirt of his and an ancient pair of Starsky's jeans. The clothes hung on him a little, and his bare feet were tucked around the rungs of his chair.

"Hutch meet Berry. Berry, Hutch," Starsky waved between the two as he turned a chair around and crossed his arms over the back. "He's my present from Huggy."

"But you already have so many."

"Yeah, well he's different. He comes fully equipped with a questionable background, hazy legal status, and oh, yeah, information on a city government conspiracy complete with embezzlement, intrigue and possibly murder."

"Huggy's always thinking of us, isn't he?"

"Dish it up, Berry," Starsky directed, and added firmly, "the Reader's Digest version. Got it?"

"Yeah, I got it," the youth pouted than began his tale.

Berry kept it short, and Hutch was just finishing up his lunch when the story wound down. Looking over at Starsky, their connection met. A few moments later, decision made, they went over the details.

"After seven, I've got the Crenshaw burglary inventory to finish."

"Huggy can probably get us an intro."

"Clothes are gonna be problematic."

"Not a problem - Junior over there'll be our Wardrobe Advisor."

"Be great if we were staking out Goodwill."

"Nah, shoulda seen how pretty he was before I made him take a shower."

"That good, huh?"

"Makes Huggy look downright Republican."

Hutch laughed briefly, then glanced over at Berry, who looked torn between looking fascinated by what the partners were and were not saying, and being cool and aloof. "Walk with me a minute, Berry," he said quietly and he got up and handed his empty plate to Starsky. He nodded to his partner, who looked a moment into the baby blues, sighed, then tilted his head toward the door as he moved to put the plate in the sink. Hutch reached out and stroked a shoulder as he passed.

"Your story's good," Hutch began as he opened the apartment door. "But don't think that my partner and I don't know a hustle when we see it."

"It's no hustle," Berry began to whine, then shut up as Hutch grabbed him by the shirt and pushed him up against the wall next to the door. The hallway was empty and Hutch had closed the door.

"My partner's been through hell the past few months, but he's as strong now as he's ever been, and he _never_ lost any of his intelligence or his cop instincts. If he wants to look into what you're selling, I'll back him. Just remember something, kid. You came to our _home_. He fed you and gave you some clothes. He's willing to work with you. Maybe I believe you, maybe I don't, but I believe in him. You hurt him, in any way, you're gone. Are we clear?"

"I got it," Berry's eyes were wide as he took in the cobra-like expression in the blond cop's eyes. He then blinked as a lazy smile broke out over Hutch's face.

"See you tonight," he added negligently as he made his way down the hallway to the staircase.

Berry was just standing there when Starsky poked his head out the door and called, "You take root in the hallway, kid?"

Berry silently shook his head and followed Starsky back into the apartment.

"Your partner is one scary dude, man."

"He has his moments. What about this one?"

"Yeah, that might work. You been together long?"

"Quite a few years. This is about it. Think you can work with it?"

"Gimme a few, and I can work miracles."

"Just get us in the door without everyone making us as cops in the first thirty seconds and we'll be fine."

Indignant brown eyes met dark blue, "I may be a hustler, but I am a hustler with class."

"Yeah, you went to the Huggy Bear School of Fashion Flair. And, I don't know that I'd be talking with such pride at being a hustler, kid," Starsky was serious when he looked over at Berry. "It's a dead end, one way or another. If it ain't drugs, it's some John beating on you or killing you, or when you're not so young and pretty no more, they stop coming around, and then what ya got?"

"You sound just like them street preachers, always trying to save my soul. Well, my soul ain't gonna pay the rent or get me food; my ass is, and it's still holding up just fine, thanks."

"Not trying to save you," Starsky said simply as he sat down on the bed next to Berry who was putting shirts with trousers, discarding some to a pile on the floor. "Just wanted you to know I get it and maybe you ought to be thinkin' about it. Word gets out you're snitchin' for us, you may get some crap. Think your fancy man is looking for you yet?"

"Don't got a keeper."

"Sing me another, Berry."

"It's true! I used to do some favors for Latrelle, but I don't no more."

"Used to?"

Berry looked down, "He said I was too old for his tricks, so I, uh, had to go independent, ya know? But that was okay, 'cause that's when I hooked up with Corey. We got each other's backs." The kid's hollow-eyed look had returned.

"How old are you, Berry?"

"Sixteen."

For a moment, Starsky's eyes shut and a pained expression flashed across his face, then he looked over at someone who should have still been a child, but was far from it. He briefly thought of Children's Services, then realized the ink wouldn't have been dry on the paperwork before the kid would have been out the door. Berry's gaze dropped first, and he turned and fiddled with the clothing.

"Here, I put these together. Use some decent shoes and you'll both pass." He got up from the bed and picked up the bag that held his old clothing. "Look, I gotta split, do some stuff," he slid his feet into his shoes, the shiny eveningwear totally incongruous with his current outfit. "I'll meet ya at Huggy's, okay?"

"Around eight," Starsky replied, following him to the door, knowing that it would be useless to try to keep him there. "One thing that's been bugging me, kid."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"If they're keeping an eye on you, like you think, why weren't you afraid to come to a cop's place?"

"S'easy one, man. They'll just figure ya just wanted a little company while your guy is out workin'."

"And when Hutch showed up for lunch, I suppose it was for a threesome?"

"Told ya I was good, man."

"And you want me to believe this is gonna fly on the street."

Berry looked at Starsky and tilted his head, a puzzled looked in his eyes. "You don't know, do ya?"

"Apparently not. Why doncha enlighten me?"

"Word is that Starsky and Hutch are _tight_, ya get my drift?"

"We've been partners for years, Berry, workin' the same district. That's not news. Nobody's gonna believe I sent out for an underage trick for a threesome with my partner."

"Sure they would. Maybe a little kinkier that what you're known for, but hey, ya could be expandin' your horizons and all that shit," Berry grinned at Starsky's bewildered expression.

"Are you tellin' me word on the street is that Hutch and I are…together?"

"If that's another way of sayin' puttin' it to each other, yeah, man."

Starsky swallowed, started to say something, then stopped, looked at Berry and shook his head. "Whuh, uh what is it about us that makes people think that?"

"You're never apart, man," Berry replied as Starsky moved over to one of the kitchen chairs and sat down. The guy had an odd look on his face. "And, now you're living together. Plus, the vibe ya give off is a dead give away. I mean, I heard stuff, but now that I seen ya face to face…"

"Vibe," repeated Starsky. He rubbed his hands over his face, then looked at Berry.

"Yeah, you're all over each other all the time, man. And that funky no talking thing ya got going? Real spooky, but very together," Berry paused. "Ya really didn't know word was out, did ya?"

"No."

"Well, I can't speak for the _whole_ street, but most everywhere I been, it's known gig, not really talked about much any more."

"Old news, huh?"

"Yeah, always somethin' new going down, ya know?"

Starsky heaved a sigh, raised his brows, and shrugged his shoulders. "That's why you think we'd have no problem getting in at the club, even if we're made as cops, isn't it?" he presently said.

"Ya got it," Berry answered. "Long as ya keep a low profile, everybody's gonna think you're there for an evening's entertainment."

Getting up from the table, Starsky walked Berry over to the door. "I suppose we'll find out tonight," he finally said. "You're sure you'll be all right?"

"For now, man, yeah," Berry replied, oddly touched by Starsky's question. "Had a few minutes ta get my head on straight, I'm good. I'll get some stuff and hang a while at Huggy's. Thanks for the shower and the food," the gratitude sounded foreign in his voice, as if he wasn't used to having anyone to thank for anything.

"S'all good, kid," Starsky replied opening the door. "Stay low. Don't go near your usual spots. Get Huggy to set you up with some clothes. We want to figure out what we're gonna do with this, and we're gonna need your help to do it."

Some of last night's fear flitted over Berry's face before teenage bravado managed to drag up a swagger. "I'll do it for Corey, man."

"That's good, but you might try doing it for yourself, kid," Starsky watched as Berry descended the steps and he shut the door, his face a study of emotions.

"You wanna run that by me again, Starsk?"

"I would, but I don't much get it myself. There's a spot up on the left."

"I see it, thanks. You're the one who spent half the day with that kid."

"Yeah, I know. That doesn't mean it made sense to me. I mean, I understood _what_ he was saying. I just don't get exactly _how_ he arrived at that particular answer."

"Him and everyone else on the street with the exception of us, apparently. Let's get a place to sit and we can talk. Did you bring all my stuff? Lemme get the door."

"Yes, I brought _all_ your stuff – brush, cologne, clothes, shoes all right here in the bag, _Sahib_."

"You're a better man than I…"

"And don't you forget it, Blondie. I'll snag a booth, then we can see what's up with Hug. Go get prettier."

"Yes, dear."

Starsky smiled blandly at two women at the bar who were staring at him and remarked, "They're just like children, aren't they?" and walked over to where a booth was just being cleared.

"Hey, Cara. How're tips tonight?"

"Starsky, honey, if they were any smaller, I'd need a microscope to find 'em. What can I get you and your big blond hunk o' love?"

"Uh, _cough_, a coupla beers'd be great, thanks."

Cara smiled at the cute cop, who now had traces of red around his ears. "Don't worry honey, I know he's off-limits. But, a girl can dream, can't she," she winked at Starsky, who couldn't have answered intelligently if his life had depended upon it. "I'll tell Huggy you're here."

He was still processing the light of the really big bulb that had gone off over his head when Cara returned with two frosted mugs of beer, smiled and told him Huggy'd be by as soon as he could. Starsky nodded weakly and the waitress moved off to another table.

Gratefully taking a swallow of beer, he began recalling every remark, every joke, every off-hand comment that he could from the recent past, ever since his rehab had progressed to the point where the partners could go out in the evening to socialize. For the most part, they'd ended up at The Pits, but occasionally they'd dine at a restaurant or take in a movie. They'd also attended a few functions at other cop's houses, including Edith Dobey's birthday party a few weeks ago. The pattern fell completely into place as Hutch slid into the booth next to him.

"I didn't think I looked that bad."

"Huh, oh, no, you look great, Hutch. Always did like you in blue."

"I know – brings out my eyes. Why do you look like you've been pole-axed?"

"That's what I'm talking about. Who says pole-axed, and just what does it mean? Is that something they say in Minnesota? Same as all this other stuff. How the hell am I supposed to keep up? Is there some sort of secret code or am I just dumb or been off the streets for too long?"

Hutch held one hand up, "Breathe, Starsk." And he gulped in a few breaths, his eyes slightly wild until Hutch laid a hand on his wrist, encircling it with his fingers, squeezing lightly once, then gently stroking circles on the back of his hand.

"We've been outed, and I didn't even know about the closet."

"Was there supposed to be a closet?"

"Funny, Blintz. You didn't hear him, or Cara, or…or anybody else who's been talkin' about us for the past few months. Not really. Neither of us have."

"I suppose not. It would explain a few remarks I've been hearing, though," he looked over at Starsky. "Hey, you okay, Buddy?" Hutch's voice got real soft – the tone he reserved for his partner only.

"Are you?" Starsky focused on Hutch's eyes, which always told him the truth. They read puzzled, concerned, and…amused?

"It's a little surreal yet. Give me a while to think about it."

"Surreal. That's a good word. Here's another: surprise, as in a pretty damn big one."

Hutch smiled crookedly at his partner, "Surprise works, too."

Unable to keep from smiling back a little, Starsky shook his head and took another drink of his beer. Hutch continued to gently stroke the wrist where is lay on the table in his hand; neither seemed to remember that he was doing it. An oddly comfortable silence descended as the two sipped their beer and watched the crowd ebb and flow.

"Gonna have to talk about it."

"Yeah, I know. Need to think a while to think about it."

"Can't do it right now. Gotta job to do."

"Might be a job, but I agree, now is not the time."

"This gonna get weird, Hutch? I mean, we can talk about anything, but this, I dunno…"

"Think it's gone past weird already, Starsk. But, we're already talking about it, right?"

A beautiful smile crossed Starsky's face at this revelation, "Guess we are. So, not so weird, but definitely different."

"Different can be good."

"So can the same," Starsky said as he turned his hand so it slid into Hutch palm and grasped it. It was good to hold on to someone who wouldn't let go until you needed them to.

"Evening, gents," Huggy intoned for the benefit of any who might be paying attention as he slid into the other side of their booth. "What brings the Dynamic Duo to the Bear's lair on a Wednesday fair?"

"Just a night out, Hug," nodded Hutch.

"Got tired of the four walls," added Starsky.

"Cara, can I get a beer over here, please?" called Huggy in the general direction of the bar where Cara was filling some orders. Cara acknowledged the order and Diane reached down for another frosty mug from the freezer and pulled down a draft.

Dropping off the brew, Cara wiggled her hips next to Hutch, all the while looking wickedly at Starsky. Starsky waggled a finger at her while chuckling, which caused Hutch to turn to look at his partner during this by-play. The ready amusement in Starsky's eyes lightened his mood even more, which was good, 'cause there was so much going on right now, he was amazed that his head wasn't exploding.

"Get yer own Blintz, Cara. This one's off the shelf."

"But still fresh and good looking," Cara laughed as she wiggled her hips a bit more on her way to deliver her other orders.

"Objectified," Hutch bitched good-naturedly, pleased by the silliness that had lightened their mood.

"If you two are finished playing, maybe we can get down to the business of the night?" Huggy raised his eyebrows and sipped his beer, but amusement quirked his mouth and his eyes were twinkling.

"You got the kid stashed?" Starsky asked quietly.

"Yeah, he's hangin' in the spare room."

"He gonna stay put?" Hutch asked baldly.

"I think so," Huggy replied evenly. "But, he's the wandering type, if you know what I mean. He's scared now, but in a couple of days…who knows?"

"We oughta be able to figure out if this is going anywhere by then," Starsky noted, scanning the room.

"What do you see?" Hutch asked, making his own quiet perusal.

"Nothing in particular. Just got that feelin' we're being watched, and by eyes that are less than friendly."

"Wouldn't be surprised, from what Berry says," Huggy remarked.

"What's your take on his story, Hug?" Hutch wanted to know.

"Trips a bit of the light fantastic, but generally holds together with the telling of it when I finally pinned him down. I'm keeping my ears open, but in a quiet way, due to the circumstances, ya dig?"

"We need to figure out if there's something to it, Hug. Then, we'll have to decide how to tell Dobey," Hutch said. Starsky sighed, knowing at that point, until he'd been cleared by the Board and back on active duty, his part in this little production was going to be very limited.

"You hear anything about this Moon guy?" Starsky changed the subject slightly.

"Just some general stuff. He's old school muscle. Not the type uh dude to be messin' with, or he'd be happy to give you a free face job without benefit of anesthetic."

"Terrific," Hutch muttered. "What's this club like?"

"Oh, _CherryD's_ is a pure delight," explained the Bear cheerfully. "Mixed bag of professionals, punks, and leatherman, with the occasional straight tossed in for variety. Has a rotating floor show. Some nights bands, some nights a revue."

"Sounds a lot like the _Parrot_," Starsky offered.

"Just a bit newer on the scene and a trifle higher in class. It's over off Santa Monica by Plummer Park, in that newly renovated section."

"Is the world ready for an upscale gay bar?" wondered Hutch.

"Apparently West Hollywood is. But, I believe they prefer the term mixed," added Huggy. "The idea bein' to reduce attention from the more conservative of your brethren in blue."

"Not our beat, but we haven't heard about any rousting recently. I checked with Vice, and they have an eye on it for the coke trade, but it's not known for any heavy hitters."

Noting that Hutch included his partner automatically, even thought it had been a while since Starsky or him had been on "their" beat, Huggy had to smile. "You don't think the less than honorable'd clue you in on their questionable activities, do ya Blondie? Probably think you'd tip 'em off."

"With our secret code, no doubt."

_pause_

"Ya coulda told us, Hug," Starsky said quietly. "It woulda been less of a surprise."

Huggy was silent for moment, and the partners could see he was thinking hard about exactly how he was going to explain it to them. The Bear's face took on an earnest expression, and his elocution became crisp and precise. "I truly didn't know which way you two wanted to play this. I wasn't sure if you'd want me to ask directly. I knew IA'd have a field day with it if they heard, so I've done all I can to make sure that the wrong ears don't hear anything they ought not to. But street folks have eyes and the word is, pardon the expression, out."

"And you don't think we should have known this?" Hutch was puzzled.

"The two of you have been tight from the moment you met," Huggy replied. "You never saw it as different or why anyone should have a problem with it; I know I never have. I've seen you brush off comments and rumours because they never even entered your galaxy. But, after Gunther, something changed. Your matched set got even tighter, which wasn't a surprise, 'cause almost dying tends to change people."

"Berry said something about a vibe we give off," offered Starsky.

"That's a good way to put it," Huggy replied. "I just decided to wait until you gave me a sign on which way to handle it."

"We're not sure where this is going, Hug," Hutch finally said.

"That's okay; when you know and feel like telling me, you will." He watched the partners fondly as they looked at each other, talking in that silent way that he was familiar with, but never had the honour of sharing with anyone. Both looked back at him and nodded in unison.

"Thanks, Hug," Starksy said presently.

"You're a good friend," Hutch added, gripping his partner's hand tighter for a moment, and feeling pressure in return.

"Of course I am," Huggy said blithely. "The Bear branch of the Brown family boasts the best of the best, envied by all the rest." The laughter that followed was silly and natural and cleared the air.

"Any chance of an in at this place?" Starsky asked.

"It just so happens that a brother-in-law of a cousin of mine works sets and lighting at the club, so he can give you an idea of what's shaken behind the scenes, but you're gonna have to handle the upfront stuff yourselves," Huggy replied.

"Is everyone in the greater metro area related to you, Hug?" Hutch shook his head in bemusement.

"Just the finer half, ma man, just the finer half," the Bear moved a hand with a flourish as he stood up. Leaning over, he added, "Finish your brews and find your way upstairs. I'll meet you and we can finalize the details of your little journey to the land of _Delights_."

TBC

Adas Polo (Rice With Lentils) from Iran

Makes about 3 Persian or 6 Western servings.

Ingredients

2 cups long grain brown rice

1 cup dried lentils

potato or eggplant, thinly sliced

2 tablespoons corn or peanut oil

1/4 cup of raisins, chopped currants, or chopped dates

For this recipe, use a medium (about 2.5 litres or 2.5 quarts) pot which has a lid.

Rinse the rice several times in warm water to remove the surface starch. Then soak in lots of cold water, in the refrigerator, overnight. Drain the rice and set aside.

Bring 5 cups of water to a rapid boil. Then add the rice and lentils. Cook for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally to prevent the rice from sticking together. Drain the rice and lentils. Then mix in the raisins, currants, or dates.

Spread the oil evenly on the bottom of the pot. Then cover with one layer of sliced potatoes or eggplant. Sprinkle the rice mixture over the potatoes or eggplant. It should be heaped in the middle and not touch the sides of the pot. Cover the underside of the pot lid with a clean dish towel, and place the lid tightly on the pot. The towel absorbs extra moisture which otherwise would drip back onto the rice and make it soggy.

Cook the rice mixture for 10 minutes over medium heat, and then reduce the heat to allow the rice to steam for another 40 minutes. The heat can then be turned down very low to keep the rice warm before serving.

When ready to serve, level the rice and invert the pot over a large serving dish. The polo (rice mixture) is then served upside down, with a golden potato/eggplant crust (called "tahdig") on top.


End file.
